


It Has No Name

by Atharianias (KrismMoon)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Not Happy, Suffering, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:32:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KrismMoon/pseuds/Atharianias
Summary: Abby remembers hearing the phrase years ago: This was a suffering which had no name. What was she, now that she had lost everything?





	It Has No Name

She was so terrified of the possibility of being seen that she kept her windows locked and curtains closed. The door was latched.

She smelled. She had spent the last two days sitting on the couch, staring at the mindless droning on the television. The phone began to ring sometime in the middle of the first day, so she had ripped the cord out from the wall and turned off her mobile.

It felt more final. Sitting there, reeking and beyond exhausted. She was numb to the point of careless abandonment. If her ex-husband hadn't been so against guns, she would be holding one right now, feeling her fingers run along the smooth barrel. But, she had agreed, and sold the guns, and all she has now is the television.

She's sitting in her coffin, slowly decomposing. It's fitting. The television flashed, and another infomercial began to play.

The doorbell buzzed a few times over the past two days, and she could still hear the echo of rapping knuckles and elevated voices just outside her door. She had been in the middle of listlessly watching a soap, when the first person had come to the door. She had been so overwhelmed by the thought that she would be caught and seen, that her body had locked into place, and she hadn't moved since.

But she could feel the coldness behind her. It seared her spine, rendered her rigid and unmoving.

Her stomach gurgled, and her eyes flickered shut. She hadn't eaten or drank anything since two days ago. The thought of putting something in her mouth to swallow... She nearly gagged.

She could see it out of the corner of her eye, sitting there, silent and cruel. It mocked her, told her she was useless, that everything had fallen apart. For the first day, she had cradled it in her arms before her body had gone completely numb, and it had fallen to the floor beside the couch.

She waited for it to make a sound, some tiny noise that would invalidate the past two days. Her face was tacky with dried tears. Her red eyes were drooped and glassy. She had screamed at it for an hour to _do something._ But, whether she mindlessly watched the television or screamed, it laid there, silent and still.

She blinked, and noticed the infomercial was now another soap. Her thoughts skipped back and forth; She was losing time.

There was a knock at the door, louder than the others.

"Abby? Are you home?"

It was _him._

For the first time since she had gone numb, her breath caught and her eyes slowly looked to the door.

"Abby? Your car is in the driveway! I tried calling, but I couldn't get through!" He yelled through the door.

"I think I have an extra key. I'm coming in, alright?"

He was going to open the door. Her legs twitched and her anxiety roared to life. She felt assured that the latch was still in place.

He turned the key and went to open the door, but it nearly snapped back and hit him with how fast he had pushed it.

"What the fuck? Abby, open the fucking door! You can't keep him from me!" His voice rose in surprised anger.

"Excuse me, who...Oh, Bill. We were wondering what was going on." The neighbors were out there now. Her arms folded to hold her stomach, and she curled inwards. Her throat worked, swallowing painfully to keep the bile down.

Everyone was going to see. They were going to know.

"Today's my day with my kid, but Abby isn't opening the door. Her car is in the driveway, but the door is latched. Have you see her today?"

"Now that you mention it, I don't think I've seen her at all this weekend."

No. No. No. No. She trembled. She would cry if she could.

She thought if she stayed on the couch and pretended, then it wasn't real. He was here now, though; Playing pretend was impossible now.

"Could you stay at the front door while I check the back?" He asked.

"Sure, sure. I hope everything's okay."

"Me too." He said quietly, worriedly.

Her heart clenched. Nothing was okay.

She heard a thud a minute later, and then the back door creaked open. She had locked it, but she had forgotten to latch it. Or had she? Maybe she was hoping he would get in.

"Abby? Are you home?" He was in the kitchen. His footsteps were cautious.

Finally, he entered the living room. She didn't look up.

"Abby? Oh my god! Are you okay?" He rushed to her, knelt down in front of the couch, and tried to peer at her face.

"Abby, what's going on?" He demanded. His hands came up to cradle her face.

She shook her head. It hurt so much to look at him _._

"What? What's wrong?" He demanded, angrily. He was here, staring up at her, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

She leaned sideways and let her arm drape over the end of the couch. He turned to look at what she was trying to reach. He picked it up and looked at her, a dawning horror slid onto his face.

"Why is the baby monitor on the floor?" He whispered. "Where's-" He stood up, unsteadily. "Where is he?"

She fell back against the couch, and felt the numbness creep back in. He turned and ran passed her.

A moment passed.

She heard him scream.

She closed her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean to end it so dark. And just to clarify, it was SIDS; she didn't kill her child. When I wrote the beginning blurb, I honestly didn't know why this woman was so closed off, but when I came back to it, it all just fell into place. I am not 100% satisfied with the dialogue (I find that my ability to write dialogue is somewhat...lacking), and I tried to mind my tenses, but I feel that overall, it was an effective short. If you have anything to say, I welcome you to comment.


End file.
